Wednesday's Child
by Fiery Shadow
Summary: [AU 3x4] All he wants is happiness. All he gets is pain. Broke and forced back into a lifestyle he hates, Trowa is trying to hold himself together. But how much more can he take before he stops trying to fight?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer– I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters.  
AN– I'm new to the Gundam Wing fandom and decided to try my hand at writing some fanfics. I have never seen Gundam Wing so the characters will be OOC.  
Warnings-- Language, sexual situations, male/male, cross dressing, rape, suicide, murder, drugs  
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Trowa walked into the bar and it seemed like all conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at him. Ignoring all the looks, he went over to the bar and sat down.

"Give me the strongest drink you've got."

"Be right with you." he said quickly looking at Trowa.

He turned away and quickly did a double take. Trowa didn't blame him for that reaction or the staring that followed. Hell, he'd stare at himself too. It wasn't everyday that you see a six foot tall teenager wearing a cat suit. Said cat suit consisted of black leotard, which was concealed by a trench coat, furry black ears, whiskers, and a collar stating that his name was Sugar Puff. And if the bartender could see under the trench coat he would see a long black tail and a leash attached to the collar.

"You can stare after I get my drink." he stated.

"Uh...sorry. I need to see ID."

Trowa pulled out his fake ID and handed it to the man. The bartender looked it over, handed it back to him and went to get Trowa's drink. A minute or later he returned with the drink. Trowa tasted it and then looked at the bartender.

"Either ask your question or go away." he snapped.

"Why are you dressed like a cat?"

"Costume party."

"It's not Halloween."

Idiot, Trowa thought. People dress up for reasons other than Halloween. But instead of saying that, he just shrugged his shoulders and drank more of his drink. Obviously not satisfied with that answer, the bartender continued staring at him.

_Can't I just sit here and drink my fucking drink in peace?_

Trowa wisely resisted the urge to tell the man to fuck off. No, it wasn't wise to piss off the person fixing you something to drink.

"It was a birthday party." he finally said. "The kid hates clowns, wanted a kitten."

Finally, satisfied with that answer, the bartender nodded his head and walked away. A small smirk appeared on Trowa's face. What he said wasn't exactly a lie. There had been a party and the birthday boy did want a cat. The difference was that the "boy" was actually a thirty-two year old man. Trowa finished that drink and ordered another two. After finishing those, he paid for the drinks and left. Just as he was about to walk out the door, someone yelled out to ask him if he was embarrassed walking around like he was. He pretended like he didn't hear him and continued walking out. Was he embarrassed? No. He had long ago given up the notion of being embarrassed. Not even an hour ago he had been on the floor playing with a ball of yarn like a cat while some guy jerked off to it. Yesterday he had been a slutty nurse, a rabbit and gave some guy a blowjob while the guy read from porn magazines. And tomorrow, who knew. He could be anything from some cute animal to a leather clad biker type, hopefully not the leather because he hated it. Or he could spend the whole day giving hand and blowjobs. He'd do whatever he was paid to do, except for full intercourse. Trowa flat out refused to have sex with anyone. He'd been down that road before and barely made it out alive. Never again. He wouldn't even be doing this but he needed money. And the only way to make money quickly was either sell drugs or yourself. He had sold drugs for awhile but once again he couldn't live with the guilt. There was only so many kids or pregnant woman that you could sell to before it begun bothering you. So he chose to sell himself. An acquaintance had helped him get a job at Love Zone, a dance club located in a massive old warehouse, which despite it's name no one came looking for anything resembling love. Trowa worked downstairs in the lounge, which was also misnamed. The lounge actually consisted of a small sitting room with a bar, a locker room, an office, and private rooms for anyone willing to pay for them. On paper anyone working in the lounge were considered escorts or waiters. Amongst the workers some referred to themselves as sexual gophers, pleasure specialists and other cute names to not say what they really were. Not Trowa. At all times he liked to remind himself of what he did, sold himself for money, and what he was, a whore. That way when it was all over, he'd remember how he hated what he was and would therefore do whatever was necessary to not be put back in that position. Even walking as slow as possible, Trowa made it back to work in ten minutes. He walked into the locker room and as usual people were walking around in various states of undress. A few people greeted him and he acknowledged them with a small nod of the head.

"You're late cat boy."

Trowa frowned but ignored Dante, the dark eyed red head that he knew was standing behind him.

"Ignore me then. But you need to hurry up and change. I'm not going to lose money because you're lazy."

Trowa turned to face him but didn't say anything.

"Patrick is sick so you're working a party with me and a few others." Dante explained. "Change out of the costume and let's go."

"I need to shower first."

"Shower when we get there."

Dante walked off. Oh this is going to be fun, Trowa thought sarcastically. It was no secret that he and Dante didn't get along. Rather, Dante didn't get along with him. Trowa had barely begun working in the lounge before Dante made it clear that he hated the ground Trowa walked on and would be the first to cheer once he was gone. Dante had gone so far as to try to sabotage him. But after a "friendly talk" with Trowa he backed off, content with just verbally attacking him. They hadn't ever crossed paths before so Trowa was fairly certain it was jealousy over the fact that he outranked him. In the lounge there was a ranking system ranging from the elites to the grunts. The elites, who usually had been there longer, got lots of perks, like more money, first choice of who they took on, what they did, access to nice hotel rooms, unlimited use of the club's cars and more. The grunts, usually newly hired, took on what no one else wanted. By all rights Trowa should've been ranked as a grunt. But due to some unsavory connections that Trowa would rather not have, he was treated like an elite. He only did grunt work by choice. After he finished changing, Trowa went outside where Dante was sitting in a car waiting. He glared at him for a second as he got in and then drove off. Half an hour later they pulled up in front of a huge mansion. On the ride there Dante told him what was going on. Apparently some big shot in the porn industry was being given a birthday party and they were the entertainment. Everyone one else working the party was already there getting ready.

"Use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Use the rob provided and leave your clothes in the bedroom. Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes." he said once they were inside.

Once again he walked off without another word. Trowa shook his head slightly and went upstairs to the bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and stuffed them in his backpack, which he was glad he decided to bring along, and sat them on the floor out of the way of everyone else's clothes. He went into the bathroom and showered. Afterwards, he slipped on the short black silk robe and went downstairs. He found Dante downstairs talking to everyone else. Trowa was surprised that only five other people were wearing the black robs. Dante and everyone else were dressed in different colored almost see thru shorts with matching collars around their necks. He noticed Trowa and then looked at his watch. He still had five minutes left on the fifteen minute deadline so he couldn't say anything.

"You're part of the buffet."

Trowa's first thought was wondering if he was serving food. But the glint of amusement in Dante's eyes told him that he wasn't going to get off that easy.

"In there." he said pointing to the room behind him.

Dante moved to the side to let Trowa in. He went in and looked around. It was an enormous, and he meant enormous, playroom. He guessed it would have to be seeing as everything in the room was huge. Entertainment center, fireplace, chairs, tables, dart boards, two pool tables, stocked bar. There was a wall of glass that lead out to an even bigger deck with what looked like an Olympic sized pool just beyond it. There was more to see but he eyes were drawn to another set of sliding glass doors just to his left. They were open so he was able to see the long tables that were draped in black silk sitting in there. Buffet tables. _Empty_ buffet tables, his mind supplied a second later. Trowa's eyes narrowed slightly. You have got to be kidding me, he thought as he quickly realized what that could possibly mean.

"You're dessert." Dante said confirming his suspicions. "Just lay up there and try not to move or speak. Think you can handle that?"

In response, Trowa pulled off his robe, and walked over to the table. Looking completely indifferent, he hopped up on the table and laid back. As he did he heard one of the "boys" mumble something to Dante, who then started laughing. Two words were deliberately said loud enough for Trowa to hear, "kept bitch." They wanted him to react but he didn't. Truth was he could care less about what they said. He was well aware of the rumors about him being someone's pet but they weren't even close to the truth. He was a lot of things but kept wasn't one of them. The next few minutes saw the others got on their tables and made themselves comfortable. Once that was done, the caterers began setting the tables. Trowa stared at the ceiling as bite-sized cakes, pastries and other sweets were strategically, yet decoratively, placed on and around his body. Warm melted chocolate was poured into his navel until it overflowed and ran down his sides while whipped cream and other dipping sauces, were poured onto other parts of his body in patterns that he couldn't see. After the caterers were finished, they took a picture of each table and went back to the kitchen, where they waited until they were needed to replenish the tables. As the party began Trowa relaxed as much as he could and tried to zone out. It was difficult because the table was cold and he felt disgusting with the food just sitting on him. He silently cursed at rich perverts who had too much time and money on their hands.

_What happened to the days of a quick suck and fuck, he asked himself. _

Granted this was a lot better than a back alley fuck, but in some cases faster was better. And at least there wasn't a no drinking on the job rule. As long as they didn't get too drunk to do their job, then they were fine. Every now and then a caterer would come check on them and bring them something to drink, vodka in Trowa's case. And after a few drinks, he hoped to be tipsy enough not to care about all the people touching and eventually licking him. About four hours later, Trowa and the others were told that they were finished. Without looking like he was rushing, Trowa went to get a hot shower. He had thought the food just sitting on him was bad, but the stickiness and dried flakes of different icing were worse. Not to mention the clamminess left behind by being licked clean. Afterwards, he got dressed and went downstairs to Dante's car to wait for him. The past taught him that Dante wasn't above leaving him to get home or back to the club on his own. Dante wasn't happy with having to drive him home, especially since Trowa lived in the opposite direction than he did. After an hour in complete silence, they finally got there. Dante looked at the house, then Trowa and back to the house. From the shocked look on his face it was obvious that he hadn't expected Trowa to live in such a nice area, much less a huge townhouse.

"Home sweet Sugar Daddy's home." Dante said sarcastically.

Trowa ignored him and got out of the car. He should've known that Dante would automatically think this was his "Sugar Daddy's" house but truth was that there was no Sugar Daddy. The townhouse actually belonged to friends of someone that Trowa knew, and that he was only staying in one of the extra rooms. Although even that was about to change. Trowa was soon going to have to move because Victor and Brad, the couple who owned the townhouse, had decided that he should be their personal fuck toy. Trowa readily admitted that he had non verbally played a part in their assumption. But what did they expect him to do when they'd knock two hundred dollars off his share of the rent if he handed them the money in the nude? Or not charge him for utilities and food if he let them rub against him like cats in heat. Hell, he was fine with that and would've probably thrown in a few blowjobs and handjobs if they hadn't started getting possessive. He could barely leave without being bombarded with questions like where are you going, who are you going with, when will you be back. They were probably going to hound him mercilessly once he got inside because he hadn't been home in two days. Surprisingly, the house was silent when he walked in. Glad that he avoided an interrogation, Trowa went to his bedroom. He quickly got undressed, got into the bed and went to sleep.

From a younger age, Trowa learned how to be a light sleeper so when his door creaked open a few hours later he instantly woke up. He slid his had under his pillow to the knife he always kept with him. Their distinctive after shave already told him that it was Victor and Brad. Trowa sighed inwardly. It seemed like he was moving sooner than he thought. He pretended to be sleep because he was curious to see what they were up to. A hand, Victor's judging from the size, stroked his wrist. As he did, something metal clinked. Handcuffs, his mind instantly supplied. That wasn't good. If they handcuffed him, he'd be in a lot of trouble. So Trowa lashed out and sliced at the hand. Victor yelled in pain.

"Keep your hands to yourself." Trowa said calmly as he got out of bed.

He turned on the light and saw that Brad was kneeling beside Victor holding his shirt to his cut hand. The handcuffs lay forgotten on the floor.

"Are you crazy?" Brad shrieked. "You cut him."

In response Trowa picked up the handcuffs and dangled them in front of their faces to remind them of what they had planned to do.

"We're even."

Trowa began to pack his things so he could leave. Despite his calm exterior, he was furious. Just the thought of what could've happened while he was handcuffed made him want to cut more than Victor's hand. Only the threat of going to jail and the fact that he played a part in the situation stopped him. Although, Trowa wasn't concerned about them calling the police because he knew they wouldn't. They would never want to explain why someone like him was living with them. Once he was finished packing he left. The minute he stepped outside his mood further deteriorated. Not only was it cold, it was raining. Why couldn't they have picked a warmed night to act up, he thought. And why couldn't they choose a day when he was already in a shitty mood? No, they chose the one day that was going okay. To make matters worse, he didn't really have anywhere to go now. He didn't have any friends and the few acquaintances he did know wouldn't help him out of the goodness of their hearts. It didn't matter anyway. They lived in rough neighborhoods. Noone was going to open the door for him at this time of night. Instead he walked ten minutes to the nearest bus stop. He'd wait there until the buses began running again in three hours. Even though it wouldn't really help, he quickly put more clothes to try to keep out the cold. Luckily the bench was covered so he wouldn't get too wet. He sat down and wished he had taken some kind of alcohol when he left, but was somewhat glad that he didn't. In his present mood, he was more than likely to get drunk and slit his own throat.

"Trowa Barton, whore extraordinaire, survives another day." he said bitterly.

That's if you can call being cold, tired, homeless, forced into a lifestyle he hated, and broke even though he was well paid, surviving. Still as bad as it was, he knew that it could always be worse. First hand knowledge reminded him that it could be much more worse. But in the end, he had pulled himself together and got through it. He would just have to do it again. And since this time he had a reason to make it, he was going to fight that much harder. Trowa looked up at the sky and sighed. But this was it. He didn't have it in him to go through this anymore. He couldn't. Correction, wouldn't. He'd rather die first.

"One way or another, it ends with this." Trowa promised himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**- I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters.  
**Authors Note**- Someone asked about Trowa's money situation. Well, he makes money but isn't able to use it. One of the causes of his money problems will be answered this chapter. Also he doesn't make as much money as he can. He works at a fantasy sex club but chooses not to do full intercourse. He'd make more money that way but he still refuses. Why he refuses will be explained later. About the title... It comes from the poem/rhyme (I don't know what to call it) about children born on the days of the week. For Wednesday it goes "Wednesday's child is full of woe." I looked up the definition of woe and thought it described the Trowa in this fic_. woe--used to express grief, regret, or distress. 2. A condition of deep suffering from misfortune, affliction, or grief.  
_**Warnings**- m/m, language, drugs, rape, more as the chapters come.

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The sound of people talking woke Trowa the next morning. He opened his eyes and saw t hat three other people had come to catch the bus. With a slight groan he sat up and stretched. Sleeping on the cold hard bench had caused his body to become sore. His stomach rumbled so he reached into the bottom of his duffle bag for the oatmeal bar that he knew was in there. Trowa stared at it for a few seconds before he ate it, frowning the whole. Not only did he hate oatmeal bars but it was older than he thought. But he was hungry so he continued to nibble on the stale bar until the bus came. He threw it away and then boarded. Forty-five minutes later, he got off and then walked another few minutes until he reached an old brick building. Trowa stared at the building and sighed. Before moving in with Brad and Victor, he had lived in the tiny basement apartment. The mess he currently found himself in all started here. So to say he didn't want to be here would be an understatement. Ignoring the steps leading down to the basement apartment, Trowa went inside then walked up to the third floor and down to the last door on the right. He scoffed at the sign next to the door, Axel Hansen, building super. Other than rent, Axel barely paid the building any attention. His focus was on buying, selling, and using whores and drugs. Trowa had known Axel since he was a kid and had even worked for him as an errand boy for awhile. Because of that he knew what Axel's vices were and therefore knew that Axel would just as easily accept sexual favors instead of money for letting him stay. He knocked on the door and waited. The door opened and he rolled his eyes at the overwhelming scent of drugs, booze, and sex. Axel's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Trowa.

"Of all the people I expected to see, you certainly weren't it." he said. "I'm almost afraid to ask what you want?"

"I need a place to stay."

"What, living in that nice part of town not good enough for you anymore?"

"It wasn't as good as I thought."

"Never is. Can't you go to a hotel?"

"It's way too early and I don't have any money."

To waste, Trowa added silently.

"How do you expect to pay me then?"

"How do you think?" Trowa said as he tapped on his mouth.

Axel looked at him for a second while he obviously thought it over and then frowned slightly.

"I'm not touching you. I've heard the rumors."

"I'm clean." Trowa snapped.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

Trowa knew exactly what he meant but refused to go into it. With a mumbled "fuck it," Axel moved aside to let him in.

"You can stay for a few days but that's it. I can't afford any trouble."

"There won't be any trouble."

"Kid, trouble has been by your side from the day you were born." he said seriously. "Take the backroom. It locks from the inside."

"Thanks."

"By the way, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you. But since you were bleeding like a stuck pig at the time..."

Trowa went into the room and closed the door cutting off the rest of what Axel was going to say. He locked the door and went over to the bed, or rather the naked mattress that was on the floor. He could just imagine all the things that had been done on that mattress. A second later he shrugged his shoulders and laid down anyway. He really had no room to talk. His body probably had been used more times than the mattress. A sick grin spread across Trowa's face at that thought. I'm so pathetic, he thought as he put his bag under his head to use as a pillow. He set the alarm on his watch and went to sleep. Four hours later the alarm went off. Trowa reluctantly got up. That wasn't nearly enough sleep but he couldn't waste time by sleeping any longer than that. He grabbed some clean clothes and went to shower. After a nice hot shower and change of clothes, Trowa grabbed his coat and went into the kitchen. Axel who was at the stove cooking waved hello. Trowa acknowledged him with a small nod of the head and went to get some coffee. Just as he went to drink it, he paused and turned to Axel.

"Is this plain coffee?"

"Huh?"

"Plain, Axel. No extra pills, powders or liquids in it. No drugs period."

Axel chuckled, blew a kiss at Trowa and mumbled something about still being vicious. Or delicious, Trowa didn't catch the exact word. He shuddered inwardly. Trowa hoped it wasn't delicious because he really didn't want to think of Axel thinking of him like that. He could handle giving him a blowjob, but anything more than that was just...disturbing. Not only did Axel's tastes run to kids barely legal, or small and petite enough to pass for younger, he liked to be rough and violent. Only two things had kept Trowa safe from Axel over the years. His stepfather when he was alive and the fact that Trowa had always been tall for his age.

"It's clean."

Trowa looked at the coffee once again before setting it down. He really couldn't trust Axel's word that it was clean. Axel saw this and laughed.

"You know, you never said what you wanted for letting me stay?" Trowa asked.

"I don't want anything."

Bullshit, Trowa's mind instantly thought. Everyone wanted something.

"You sure?"

Trowa knew that he was basically asking Axel to want something but it would make him feel better. He learned long ago that even when you got "something for nothing," you still had to pay. When he saw that Trowa wasn't going to back down, Axel sighed.

"Fine. How about some VIP tickets to the club?"

"I can get two."

"That's good."

"I'll be back later." he said as he slipped his coat on.

Trowa stepped outside and walked back to the bus stop. A few minutes later his bus came and he got on. Technically today was his day off at the club but he was called in to take care of a last minute client. The client was staying at a hotel in the resort town an hour and a half away. It didn't bother Trowa to go there because he was already heading that way. The bus finally reached his stop so he got off. Trowa make his way to the hotel his client was staying in. After stopping by the front desk to pick up the room key and two packages that were waiting for him, his costume and props he needed, he headed upstairs to the room. A few of the hotel's employees gave him brief looks but didn't say anything. Not only had he been there before but seeing prostitutes in the hotels, no matter how discreet they were, was a normal occurrence. On a colony where prostitution was legal what did they expect to happen when they built a rich resort town so close to the poorest part of town. He found the room and used the key to get in. His client's plane should have already landed so it would only be a matter of time before he got to the hotel. Someone from the club already had come by set everything up. All Trowa needed to do was make sure everything was ready. Plain white hotel sheets replaced with black silk ones, check. Silk robe and comfortable slippers ready for use, check. Scented candles lit, check. Hot bath waiting, check. The only thing left was for him to get dressed so he went into the bathroom to change. Trowa wasn't shocked when he opened the box and saw that his costume only consisted of a silk loin cloth, arm and leg shackles, and a collar with a leash. He quickly slipped out of his clothes and changed. Before putting on the shackles, he made sure that they would easily break open if he needed to get out of them. They did so he put them on too. Once satisfied that everything was okay, he went to sit by the door to wait for his client.

_Just like the good little slave boy I'm paid to be. _

Maybe it was because he could barely afford food but Trowa never did understand how these people paid money for him to come do this when they could do it themselves for free. He mentally shook his head. He wouldn't make any money if they stopped doing things like this. If they were stupid enough to waste their money, he was going to gladly take it. A few minutes later he heard a key inserted in the door so he quickly shifted so that he was bowing. He lifted his head up as a gray haired man walked in.

"I'm Gabriel." Trowa said using the name he used for work. "From Love Zone."

The man thoroughly looked Trowa over before he spoke.

"I thought you'd be more muscular." he muttered. "Come get these bags boy and put them into the bedroom."

Trowa went over to him and grabbed the bags.

"If you need to address me, call me Master."

"Yes Master."

He took the bags into the bedroom. It was already obvious that this guy was going to be an asshole. Trowa knew for a fact that to make the experience better for them, clients were asked about their preferences regarding height, weight, body type, eye color, hair color and things like that. So if this guy wanted someone muscular, he should've requested it. The only thing he had been specific on was that he wanted someone to cater to him for a few hours.

"Help me out of these clothes." he said coming up behind Trowa.

Making sure he was pressed up against him, Trowa took off his tie followed by his shirt and jacket. He then got down on his knees to get off his shoes, pants, and boxers making sure he "accidently" brushed against his clients crotch. Trowa then looked up at him with his most submissive look.

"You're bath is waiting for you. Master." he said after a pause.

Of all the things he had to do, calling people master was what he hated most.

"Good boy." the client said patting his head.

The client walked into the bathroom so he followed. He got into a kneeling position while his client climbed into the tub. The client mumbled something about the tub being just like he liked it before silence filled the room. Despite being in a not so comfortable position, Trowa let himself zone out. A few minutes later his concentration was disturbed when something hit him. He looked down and saw a sponge lying on the floor.

"Make yourself useful." his "master" said.

Trowa picked it up and moved closer to the tub. He wet the sponge and began to slowly, even though he would rather not, wash his client. The only part that he didn't linger on was the groin area. A few quick wipes and he moved on. Trowa wasn't getting paid for anything sexual therefore his "master" wasn't going to get it. A few more minutes later, the client decided it was enough and told Trowa so. He then stood up and got out of the tub. Trowa grabbed a towel and began drying him off, once again slower than necessary. Next he lotioned him down and then helped him into the silk pajamas and slippers.

"I'm going to sleep now but I need to be up in two hours." he instructed. "While I'm sleeping, I expect you to clean up any mess, unpack my clothes, set out the black suit, and have some food waiting. Can you remember all of that or do I need to write it down?"

"I can remember Master."

"Good."

He got into the bed and Trowa helped him get settled. Trowa waited for the client to fall asleep and then went to finish the other tasks assigned to him. Because they weren't difficult tasks, he was finished fairly quickly. With his free time, Trowa searched through the newspaper looking for any available cheap apartments or rooms. The faster he got away from Axel and the trouble he could cause, the better. Someone knocking on the door interrupted his search. A quick glance at the clock let him know that he had wasted more time than he thought. In fact, he had to wake his client up in fifteen minutes. He was glad that his client hadn't woken up or he could've gotten in trouble for that. He was supposed to be alert and attentive to his client at all times. With a slight shake of his head, Trowa opened the door for room service. After the attendant got the cart inside and left, Trowa transferred the food to a smaller serving tray. He then quickly put back on the shackles that he had taken off, grabbed the tray and slowly made his way back to the bedroom.

"Master, it's time to wake up." he said as he sat the tray on a small table. "Master."

Trowa went over and tapped him slightly.

"Your food is here."

The client sat up in the bed and looked at him.

"Well, serve me already."

With practiced ease, the tray was placed on the clients lap. Trowa returned to a kneeling position beside the bed and stared at the wall. A few minutes later, something was shoved in front of his face.

"Eat this."

It took Trowa a few seconds to see that it was a plate of waffles. Half eaten waffles. On the outside Trowa just stared blankly at the plate. Inside, however, he was frowning at the waffles swimming in too much syrup. There was no way in hell he was eating that.

"Thank you for your offer Master but I'm not hungry."

"You would turn down your Master's kind offer?" he asked with a slight glare.

There was nothing kind about it and they both knew it. This was his way of letting Trowa know who was the boss. Unfortunately, they both knew that he, the client, was. This isn't the first time you've had to do this, he told himself. Just do it and get it over with. The client smirked when Trowa took the plate and begun eating it.

_You fucking bastard. If I didn't need this god forsaken job..._

Trowa took a deep breath and let that thought go. Instead he tightened his hold on the fork to keep from "accidently" shoving it in that bastard's thigh.

"Good boy." he said ruffling Trowa's hair like a dog. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you Master."

"Your welcome."

Thankfully, things seemed to move faster after that. Trowa cleaned up the breakfast mess and then helped his client get dressed. By that time, the session was over so he was free to go. After dressing himself, Trowa said a quick "thank you for using our services" and "come see us again" and left.

After leaving the hotel, he headed over to his second job. When Trowa wasn't needed at the club, he usually "worked" at a bar in the same resort town. It was surprising how many straight men liked to get their dicks sucked by boys. Granted, it was a lot more dangerous because there wasn't any security like at the club but he didn't have to give up a percentage of his money either. So in the end, the extra money was worth any trouble he could get in. Trowa pulled out his cellphone, a necessary expense if he wanted to keep up with his jobs, and checked the messages to make sure he had no new jobs. There was nothing from his boss or any of his regular club clients so that meant he was free to work all night Good, he should be able to make some decent money today and tomorrow. There were a few conventions in town, so it meant an abundance of drunk business men with too much money to burn. Trowa spent most of his time in a bar called Silver Glades. It was a small out of the way bar that was very popular with the business men. It was also a known pick up spot, and as long as nothing sexual happened in the bar, the owner didn't say anything about them staying there to work. He headed over to the bar and ordered the cheapest drink they had. Ordering at least one drink an hour was a rule they had to follow if they wanted to sit in the bar. Trowa was sipping his drink when he felt that tell tale prickling that indicated that someone was looking at him. He turned slightly and saw a man in the corner looking him over. Obviously please with what he saw, then man nodded his head in the direction of the door and then left. A minute later, so did Trowa. He found the man, who he dubbed Hawaii because of his tie, waiting for him in a small walkway not to far from the bar.

"Fifty dollars, up front. Blowjobs and handjobs only. Condom a must." Trowa stated.

Hawaii nodded and handed Trowa fifty dollars, which he quickly pocketed.

"Get on your knees."

Trowa barely had time to kneel and get the condom on before Hawaii was shoving himself into his mouth.

"Now suck it like a good little faggot."

Absolutely priceless, Trowa thought. This asshole was calling him a faggot when he willingly came to another boy for a blow job. Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time someone had expressed the same sentiments. Setting aside any thoughts, Trowa concentrated on the task he was getting paid for. When it came to blowjobs, Trowa gave two kinds. An acquaintance had perversely referred to them as the "cum and go" and the "cum and cum some more." Like their name suggested one was for the men he usually met at the bar and wouldn't see again and the other was for the men who would become his clients. The pattern for both was basically the same, a mix of teasing licks, gentle and hard sucks , nibbles along the shaft, bites to the tip, and licks to the slit. He usually ended it when he suddenly deep throated the men and sucked hard. The only difference was that with the "cum and cum some more" he took more time, included the balls in his sucking and licking, and other extras that he added on the spot. It seemed that Hawaii just wanted to get off because he grabbed the back of Trowa's head and started thrusting in and out. Trowa reached up and slowly massaged Hawaii's inner thigh. His appreciative moan was completely ignored. The "massage" was for Trowa's peace of mind, not Hawaii's pleasure. Strapped to the inside of Trowa's wrist was a retractable knife. It was small but could do a lot of damage depending on where you stuck it. So if any of the men got out of line, then they would find themselves with a nasty knife wound in a very sensitive place. A few more thrusts later, Hawaii came with a grunt. He let go of Trowa's head and shoved him away. Trowa caught himself before he fell to the ground then got up and left. He returned to the bar, going straight to the bathroom to wash his mouth out. The condoms had a funny taste that he hated but he had forgotten the peppermints he usually sucked on to mask the taste. Trowa then sat back at the bar to wait for his next customer. Fifteen minutes later, he found himself in the public bathroom on his knees. An hour after that it was the front seat of a car. Then back to the alley he had originally been in. On and on it went until he decided that his jaw was too tired to give another blowjob, and his knees weren't feeling too great either.

Trowa slowly walked out of the bar calculating how much he had made. He sighed deeply once he realized the total. He was about three hundred and fifty dollars short. Even after all the work he had done, it wasn't enough. And it's never going to be enough, he thought bitterly. No matter how good his blowjobs were, he'd never make the money he needed. Not unless he had sex with clients. But no matter how tempting the money, he refused to go back to that. His shortage was momentarily forgotten as his stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn't eaten in a while. He ignored it but made a mental note to stop at a supermarket before the night was over. A few minutes later, Trowa found himself entering the lobby of one of the most popular hotels. Usually he stayed away from the higher end hotels because the owners didn't appreciate prostitutes openly hanging around so they were quick to call the cops if they even suspected that was what you were doing. While prostitution was legal, they'd charge you with trespassing. And since he already had a record and wasn't sure if he had any warrants against him, getting arrested was the last thing Trowa wanted to do. But he really needed those few hundred dollars today so he was willing to risk what he was about to do. Most of the larger conferences were letting out now so the lobby was quickly becoming crowded. This worked in Trowa's favor so he kept walking toward the hotel bar, "accidently" bumping into four men as he did. They never even felt him pick their pocket. In his experience, important people never paid any attention to the people they deemed beneath them. So he wasn't surprised when they didn't spare him a glance other than a quick "watch where you're going." He got to the bar and immediately used the separate entrance to leave. While he was good at it, Trowa didn't like to resort to pickpocketing often. It was much easier to get caught and people didn't carry that much money on them, instead preferring to use the more secure credit/debit cards or checks. Once he was far enough away from the hotel, he slipped into a small alley behind a fast food restaurant and pulled out the wallets. Trowa quickly got out the money and counted it. In total he only got two hundred and seventy five dollars. It was still short but it was enough. He threw the wallets into a dumpster and walked away. His phone began to vibrate so he pulled it out and saw that he had a message.

EZ job 4 U. $400. 10pm. Sparxx.

Sparxx was his boss at the club. Trowa shook his head slightly. Of course something like this would happen to him. Right when he finished stealing the money he needed, he'd get offered a job making more. He hadn't planned on going back tonight but he'd be insane to pass up the money. Besides, if he turned the job down Sparxx might not offer him extra jobs out of spite. He sent a message accepting the job and then went to catch a bus back.

The minute he got to the club, he went to Sparxx's office. She looked up at him as he walked in the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the job." he answered.

"What job?"

Trowa understood that she hated them being late for jobs but this was insane. He was only a few minutes late and suddenly there was no longer a job for him.

"I'm only ten minutes late."

"For what? There's no job."

"For me or anyone?"

"Anyone. All open jobs have been covered."

"And this has nothing to do with me being late?"

"Are you on something?" she asked. "There are no jobs for you today."

Trowa looked at her. The smug look that was usually on her face when she was punishing them was absent. In fact, she was looking at him like she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Sparxx, did you even leave me a message tonight?"

"No, why?"

"Nevermind."

Without saying anything else, Trowa left. As he did, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the messages so he could check the phone number. It was unfamiliar, which was odd. The few people he knew didn't have this number and his regular clients had a code to use. It couldn't have been an accident because the person had to knew he worked at the club in order to send him there. So who sent the... WHAT THE HELL! That was the only thing he could think as a pair of hands suddenly grabbed him and shoved him up against a wall. Trowa let out a small groan of pain as his head hit the brick wall behind him. His eyes involuntarily shut as he waited for the pain to pass.

"You're late with the money you owe."

Shit, it was stupid of him not to pay more attention to what was going on around him. At least now he knew who called him. He shoved the hands that were still holding him away. He opened his eyes to Red and Neil, two bodyguards slash lapdogs of local criminal, Zechs Merquise. Trowa glanced past the two men looking for the familiar blonde.

"The boss isn't here." Red said noticing his look.

Good, Trowa thought. Without that psychotic asshole there this little exchange would be over quickly. Red and Neil didn't like to spend any more time with the "disgusting whore" than necessary. Without saying anything Trowa pulled out the money he made and handed to Neil, who quickly counted it.

"It's all here." he told Red and then looked at Trowa. "You know the rules. You were two days late this week which means payment is due two days early next week."

They turned and walked away before they even got a response. Trowa sighed and gave his sore head a rub before going in the opposite direction. It was too late to continue working so he decided to call it a night. He made a quick stop at a store to get himself some food for the next few days, mostly packaged soup and crackers. They weren't exactly delicious but they were cheap and filling. Afterwards, he went back to Axel's apartment. As usual, the apartment was filled with people. He hoped to make it to the backroom without anyone bothering him but he wasn't so lucky. Axel stopped him just before he made it there.

"Hey Kid, let me talk to you for a second."

Axel got up and walked to the kitchen. Something told Trowa he wouldn't like whatever Axel was going to say but followed him anyway.

"I thought about not telling you but I figured you needed a heads up." Axel said. "I had a visitor today and they left you something."

He pointed to the counter. Trowa frowned slightly as he recognized the large white bag from an upscale restaurant. He didn't even need to know who left this for him. There was only one person who could. Anyone else he knew wouldn't be allowed in the place let alone be able to afford it. And if they could afford it, they wouldn't waste their money or him. Trowa noticed writing on the bag so he turned it around to face him. There was a key taped to the bag and underneath was a message.

If you need a place to stay...

"Bastard." Trowa mumbled under his breath.

"You shouldn't be surprised. Nothing stays secret around here for long."

That was true. People around here loved to gossip and spread rumors but that wasn't the case this time. The food and invitation to stay was that fuckers way of telling Trowa that he knew what was going on with him and to make Trowa suspicious about possibly being followed.

"Here Kid, you look like you might need this." Axel said.

He set a bottle of scotch on the table and then left.

_Fuck you and your games Zechs_.

Trowa shoved the bag into the garbage and headed to the backroom, grabbing the bottle of scotch as he did. After the day he had, a few sips wouldn't hurt.

.  
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**Authors note #2**- Yes, Zechs is the bad guy in this. If anyone has problems with this I suggest not reading. He is going to be **very** bad to Trowa.


End file.
